


Of Monsters and Mann

by Doukz



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Character Turned Into Vampire, Demons, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves, maaaaybe, potentially mothman as well, tf2 comic logic, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-01-25 21:53:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18583309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doukz/pseuds/Doukz
Summary: The feud between Redmond and Blutarch has been put aside temporarily as a new threat rises in the distance. One of the last pockets of Australium in the world is being attacked, mined and stolen- to stop this, Team Fortress has split up to hunt down the enemy at the instruction of the Announcer.(I'm going by TF2 comic logic, so there's only one team who is hired between Red and Blu team!)





	1. mission in the city

**Author's Note:**

> Starting off with a short first chapter so I can get the plot up and running u'v'u
> 
> If any formatting looks off let me know and I'll fix it! I was in a bit of a rush to post this!

"Yes, we received the insight... Mmhmm, yes ma'am. I understand, we're already out here. We'll find the most efficient route possible. I- I understand you don't want- okay... Goodbye."  The click of a phone and a tired sigh. "Okay. We may not have backup, but we can do this." a girl with black hair carelessly pulled into a bun gave the three men around her a worried smile. She sat back, grabbing at a few papers strewn around her and tore a new sheet of notebook paper to make yet another plan on.  
  
"So, what did the boss lady say huh?" the youngest of the three mercenaries piped up immediately. No one in the group was particularly 'feeling it', but the promise of getting out of the base had gotten him more antsy than usual.  
  
"The administrator told us to hold off on the fourth target, but we're still taking out the other three within our alloted two days. She won't give me much information other than their recent whereabouts and of course, what they look like." she explained quickly, scribbling down something as she spoke.  
  
"So we have no real way of bein' sure these blokes are the ones involved with the Australium then?" another mercenary spoke up with a thick Australian accent.  
  
"We can trust that they are. Besides, if the administrator told us to kill someone... You know she wouldn't have to lie about it being about Australium. You'd all do it regardless." the lady replied, waving a hand to dissuade the argument. "Alright, I have a plan."  
  
"Already? Damn Pauling, ya just got off the phone with her!" Scout chipped as she laid her notebook paper out in front of them. The two mercenaries leaned in to get a better look, the third hanging back just a little. It looked like she scribbled a city onto the paper, with coordinates and notes around the hastily drawn image.  
  
"Yeah, well we need to hurry. Our location got changed." her voice seemed strained.  
  
"Well, it happens. Targets move, we follow. Easy enough." the Australian sniper pitched in optimistically.  
  
"Well yes, but... Technically no. Not this time, anyways. Our targets are in a nearby city." Pauling explained quickly.  
  
"Alright, an'?" the scout didn't understand what she was getting at.  
  
"What I mean to say is, they're in the middle of this city surrounded by civilians." she continued.  
  
Scout frowned, trying to grasp the words. "I been in a city before, miss. I ain't a kid!"  
  
That was when the third mercenary crept forward finally, his lanky form towering over the stunted Scout. "What she iz saying iz that there's no way an imbecile like you will be allowed to hunt down anyone in the middle of a city!" he grimaced, french accent sharp as his tone, and the butterfly knife in his hand.  
  
"Wha'-? Nah way man, I'm fuckin' in already!" Scout snapped, hopping off the ammo crate he was sitting on.  
  
"It's not just you, Scout. Because they moved from an open space to something as complex as this..." Pauling trailed off, eyes on the Australian.  
  
"I won' be able to go either. Not only is this bugger too loud," he side eyed his rifle, "but you can't jus' stick m' in a buildin' and hope the bloke walks down that street."  
  
Pauling nodded, her thoughts summed up by Sniper. "Exactly. And without enough information on these guys to pinpoint an actual route, well... It'd be all luck. All I know is that our three targets are holed up in the same vicinity." her eyes fell back onto the city as she popped open the cap on a red marker and circled a few spots on the map.  
  
"Aw, c'mon..." Scout folded his arms, "this fuckin' blows." as he thought about it more, he and the other mercenary's eyes settled on the third one. He was contemplating something himself, twirling a balisong in his right hand. Damn, seeing spy, Scout had the urge to snatch the knife out of his hands. It shouldn't be HIM that's allowed to go out! Unlike Spy, Scout had been holed up killing the same nine mercs for four months straight- he needed fresh blood, as the boy put it.  
  
"I know, I'll go."  
  
Pauling, surprisingly, hesitantly declined. "I don't know- I mean, not to discredit you, but these guys... The administrator seemed apprehensive about them. I think it's better if we find a way for me-"  
  
"Woah woah Pauling! There ain't no way I'm lettin' you risk yer life like that!" Scout countered immediately. The boy was reckless when it came to anyone, but he seemed rather picky about her getting in danger... Sometimes.  
  
Spy didn't seem much affected by this. "Non, if the administrator wants it, she'll get it. I am sure I can track down one of them by tomorrow night." He side eyed Pauling, almost daring her to say something else. That was when Sniper came back into the discussion, arms folded but a telling expression on his face.  
  
"The french blokes right. We need 'em down by Friday? It's Wednesday right abou' now, almos' Thursday. What say you get our boss to move the buggers into the open a lil' bit for me as long as Spy can disrupt 'em by taken out the first target?" he suggested. The lady gave it a minute of thought before tapping her chin as she turned around to glance down at her papers.  
  
"Yeah, I think I might be able to put in a good word with her." she muttered as she jotted it down on a sticky note and stuck it to her computer. "... I wish medic had come with us." The doctor had been planning on joining them for this mission, but because of the dire situation of potential Australium being tampered with, well... He'd been dragged away to a harsher battlefield to make sure Soldier and Heavy stayed alive. He could only do so much, she reminded herself.  
  
Pauling turned around and gave a curt nod to Spy. "We'll get you as close as we can. There's a place about a mile away from your destination, and we're trusting you to stay in contact with us until you take out our target."  
  
"Of course." he replied simply, already attaching the ear piece under his balaclava and tucking away his cloak and knife. The revolver would need to stay behind as he didn't have a permit (and he didn't need the extra trouble), but he made sure to slip his disguise kit into his pocket just in case. He was fairly certain Scout hadn't dropped a glare at him the entire way there, but he didn't care, his attention was focused on far more important things than what that- his- reckless daredevil had to say. And there was also the occasional comment from Sniper that was half-directed towards Spy, that he in turn only half-heard. For a teammate that had his back though, he didn't mind pretending to listen.  
  
\-------------  
  
"Alright, we're here. Main street, 32217. You have the target's general area. We're relying on you Spy." Pauling explained as she pulled over to let Spy out. Sniper was loitering near the door and gave him a reassuring pat on the back before he left. He tried to move away from the hand, but Scout was far too close for his liking so he was forced to accept it with a slightly aggravated huff.  
  
The door closed behind him (judging by the slam, he assumed it was Scout) and he checked his watch. 11:00pm. Pauling had given him an address nearby for a motel room she'd gone ahead and booked. That seemed like the first course of action, naturally. If he was to dispatch his target tomorrow night, he should at least be situated tonight with a perfected plan for the following morning.  
  
The walk to the motel room was boring, almost as much as the room itself. One bed, cracked walls, mold in the... Ceiling... Good thing he'd only be here for one day. If only Scout were here to witness what a drab the mission had started out like already, surely he'd- no, no he was fairly certain the scout would still be energetic. Hapless idiot.  
  
"Checking in, Spy, do you read me?" a voice suddenly interrupted his train of thought. Right, Pauling would be keeping in touch. Spy hadn't realized the earpiece had been on the entire time- an uneasy thought prickled his spine for a second before he waved it off. He simply liked his privacy was all.  
  
"Oui, I do." he tapped the earpiece. It sounded a bit muffled, but nothing he wouldn't adjust to.  
  
"Good. Does the motel suit you alright?" her voice trailed off at the end, hesitant. Had she not known what she was buying beforehand?  
  
"Ah! Good one. I suppose you looked for the lowest rating in the city, no?" Spy's voice was condescending as he let out the remark. Of course, Pauling knew that was just how he was and didn't take offense.  
  
"Sorry, we weren't given much in the way of money for this mission, it was supposed to be a one-day trip. I trust you have everything you need, though?"  
  
"Unless there is something I overlooked, then yes, you have no need to worry about me. I am already planning for tomorrow."  
  
"Alright, thank you Spy. I'll check in on you tomorrow. Keep us updated." With that, he folded back his mask for a moment so he could shut off the earpiece. He was tempted to take it off seeing as he was alone, but the motel was genuinely so run-down he didn't know if he could trust the securities on the door. That and something about being somewhere like this set the man on edge- best be prepared for anything, right?  
  
It took two hours for him to finally drift off into the realm of unconsciousness.


	2. Tracker Spy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't... Know what to name chapters
> 
> Anyways here you go! Again if you see a mistake please let me know! I proofread-ish but knowing me I'll miss huge issues so...

  
Ah, cities. It had been quite the while since he'd been graced with the opportunity to stroll through one again. Albeit he wished it were on better terms than an important mission that may or may not get him killed (thanks to the Medic not coming), it was still nice to see so many normal people around him again. Of which he was, of course. Very much so. That's why it took him an hour to walk outside without his mask, his identity utterly exposed to everyone who- right. Normal. If nothing else, far more sane than that insubordinate Soldier at least. Couldn't blame someone who got bad lead poisoning too much though, spy supposed.

He'd only gotten roughly five hours of sleep. Which the Spy hadn't minded since he'd fallen asleep at the small table of the room and not the bed, not bothering to discard his clothes, so he'd woken up sore from the neck down. Why he couldn't get used to that stupid room he didn't know- he wasn't a germaphobe, but god he was just so used to having his own space that was at least triple the quality of that shit stain of an excuse to sleep in.

Snapping his attention back to the task at hand he glanced down at his watch. 12:00pm. No sign of the target yet. Pauling had let him in on some more info to help him track him down. The coffee shop he was in seemed to be a daily stop for him, so here he was, ready to loiter around and pretend to do "work". Usually someone such as himself wouldn't simply wait around for prey to arrive- that was a sniper's job- but with only one lead and a deadline of tonight he didn't have much of a choice. Besides, he'd only been here for roughly half an hour and thankfully managed to keep himself rather blended in by spending his time either scribbling useless notes on a paper or looking out the window.

God it felt utterly wrong not to wear his mask around people. He ran a hand through his hair half expecting the fabric of the balaclava. Spy would admit he hated the style of the mask and it's rather bald look but it was better than potentially revealing his identity to his target.

Spy kept an eye out on the customers as his eyes sweeped across the room occasionally. He lowered them back down to a section of particularly boring scribbles until his brow furrowed and he had to do a double take at the crowd. Was that-? A man had just entered the small coffee shop in a strikingly clean suit. He stood out from the rest of the customers with his pale features and graying hair, and something Spy could immediately notice as sinister. Something about this man was utterly wrong. And so he knew he'd found his target.

He waited five minutes before the man got his 'regular' and promptly left, so fast he nearly left Spy on a cold track. But the man was tall enough to pinpoint halfway down the street as Spy left, dumping his coffee in a trash can and silently following him. He'd tell his boss about having found him later, for now he simply needed to discretely track this man down.

And track him down he did. At one point at an intersection it seemed the man almost got suspicious, so Spy was forced to duck behind the post of the building near him, lighting a cigarette to calm some of his nerves. It hardly helped. The rest of the hunt was easier, although the crowd did begin to even out some. Spy desperately hoped that he hadn't lost his edge after not being able to do this for so long.

His target abruptly turned a corner into an alleyway. Great, just what Spy needed. The french man had learned his lesson once before however, so instead of breaking from the crowd and leaving himself right for the man to see, he stayed closer to the road and pretended to need to cross over to the other street, farther away from his target (which would technically be jaywalking where he was, but cops never really cared about such petty laws). Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his target knock on a rather expensive looking dark oak door before entering. The building was tall, no doubt an office, but didn't tower over it's surroundings enough to be a skyscraper. A perfect medium to hide in, the Spy noted. The absence of a sign was something else of interest...

He crossed the street and promptly turned on the earpiece.  
"Miss Pauling?" He nearly mumbled. It was loud down the street and it wasn't like he was the only one behind the target, but it still felt revealing to turn on the small technology. Partially when everyone around him would be forced to use a far larger, blockier phone, partially when he had just stalked someone for fifteen minutes straight. Then again small advanced technology wasn't unheard of now thanks to Australium- just very, very expensive.

"I read. Spy, what's your report?"

"I found him. He entered an office building just now." The streets became denser as he made his way back to the motel.

"I see. Good job so far. Do you want me to run a check on where he went in at?"

"Oui, I was just about to ask you. It doesn't have a sign, but I can send you the address... If you can get me working hours from there I should be able to lurk around until he leaves."

"Of course, send it and I'll get you what you need. And Spy, if you need backup, I want you to let us know." Ah, not this again.

"Miss Pauling, I assure you I will not need backup. Zhis should be an easy mission for someone such as myself." Good good, keep up the proud act, he told himself. Get her off your case. Something about people wanting to pitch in and mess with things always irked him the wrong way.

An audible sigh came from the receiver. "If you say so, Spy. Good luck out there."

"Thank you, madame." he responded before promptly shutting the thing off again. He hated to admit that he felt appreciated to have people right behind him willing to help at a moment's notice, even if they weren't in an area of their expertise. But god, he was used to being forced to figure everything out on his own and the last time he'd worked with a partner... The last time... He clenched his fists, deciding to move on from that particular thought. The point was, he always worked better on his own anyways when he didn't have anyone to worry about other than himself, and could consequently be as reckless as necessary to accomplish his goal. Not that recklessness had ever been needed, but the point remained nonetheless.

All he wanted to do now was get this over with and get back to his own bed back at base. Back where he could go back to sulking around and minding his own business. He muddled over these thoughts for the rest of the way home, feeling a mixture of pride in that self-sustaining lifestyle and a dangerously toxic regret at how fragile he feared it could be.

Back at the motel he received a sudden call from Miss Pauling when he turned it on. Shit, had she been trying to call him? Granted he'd only kept it off for about twenty minutes, outrages from his boss always made him feel like a horrible person. More so than being an assassin did by far.

"Ah, Miss Pauling," he eased into the call quickly, just in case. "I trust you have found some information, no?"

"Yeah, actually!" oh thank god she sounded chipper. Another thing he didn't have to worry about. "Sandrea lane, 31767... You said he had just entered when you called, and you called at about 12:30, which unless he got to work an hour late and is in fact working there... Well..." Spy let her go on a small ramble. He didn't need her to explain exactly how she knew- he could trust her to supply accurate info- but he knew how absorbed she got and this was the only way she knew how to share her confidence.

"There aren't many positions at the office building, but the address leads me to a pretty small company. They have a section for job applications, and there's a position from 12:30 to 9:00 at night. That's your best bet." He could practically feel her joy on the other end of the call.

"I see, zhank you for your work miss Pauling, fast as usual. I will take zhis man out before he has a chance to react."

"I sure hope so. I haven't managed to contact the Administrator yet, but when I do I feel fairly confident she'll agree to help. Or at least give us more time."

"Oui, I hope so as well." after a moment and remembering his sour reaction at wanting anything to do with the other mercenaries there, he decided to ask, "how are ze other two doing, by chance?"

"Oh, them? Sniper's fine, albeit antsy about sitting inside so long. Scout, on the other hand..." oh boy. "Ohh boy." As expected. "I think he's going on a crash from a lack of caffeine. Then again Sniper might be too, but Scout- it's like dealing with a- well- you know."

"Ah, I understand mon ami. More than you'd think." He sighed as he opened the motel room door and slumped against the bed frame.

"Well," Pauling let out a lighthearted laugh, "he's definitely something. Send a call before you go, alright? I'd like one last check-in before the target is eliminated. Good luck out there Spy." This time she was the one who hung up as the sound of Scout complaining began to leak through the earpiece.

It was nice to know that the others were alright. It was far better when he had the piece of mind to know they weren't up to anything stupid out here in the city where he needed the proper space and piece of mind to complete his task. If Scout had come along, he knew they'd have probably been found out and killed in their sleep the night before. Spy could almost imagine Scout just asking around for a tall ugly man they needed to get rid of- god it both humored and saddened him that that wasn't even an uncharacteristic thought he'd had about the boy.

He pulled a magazine off of a small stack on the end table beside him. He was going to have to wait a while to go after this man, so he better get comfortable.

-

seven and a half hours had passed. Spy had eaten (very little), gone through the national history magazines twice and the car pamphlet once, doodled on the little pad every inn had, showered, tried to write poetry... He was bored out of his mind. How had he gotten so used to this before? Granted he'd always had some book he liked with him that was usually long enough to sustain a mission. Perhaps he should have brought a novel for this one as well. It would have been better than reading about koalas three times over. Of course no one could help the adrenaline he felt at having a real contract again. That was something he knew no book could take away right now. Maybe some wine and a cigarette could have done the trick but no need to dwell on lost causes. He'd gone through half the pack in his disguise kit just waiting.

Regardless, he was ready to go. His devices were where he needed them and his tie straightened for the fifteenth time (again, he was very restless) and the earpiece just turned on. His mask had been returned to his head right after the call as the paranoia of the shitty motel room sunk in again. He felt bald with it on, but he felt naked without it.

With a sigh he called his boss. It rang a few times before Spy started to worry. Then someone answered.

"Yo, Spy!" Oh god no. Not Scout. Not right now.

"Oui, it iz me. Where is Miss Pauling?" Spy sighed and tucked away the harsh edge his voice was desperately trying to give off.

"Oh she's out right now. So how's the mission goin' huh? Must be dreadful without me right?"

"Of course. I'm dying without your company." Spy seethed. He'd have rather said he was thriving.

"Knew it! That's what ya get for gettin' to go without me. God I'm dyin' over here! Oh, so ya had to go in public without yer ski mask thingright?"

"... Y e s?" he dropped the french translation as his irritation grew. He'd keep calm but god this boy sounded more hyper than he did without coffee and pure sugar in his system!

"Oh good, man, good. Cause you'd look pretty stupid out there in public man! Like, way more than you do when we're goin' against the red te-" Spy shut off the receiver. Not today, Scout, not today. Miss Pauling would have to wait for her report until after he was done.

It felt cliche to think it, but the night air was cool and refreshing. Actually anything was probably wonderful compared to the stagnant stench of the motel room that he couldn't seem to smoke or air out. Smoking had only made it thicker. But now he only needed to focus on taking out his target and getting out of there. Then the small team could celebrate with a coffee perhaps. Even if he was only taking out one of the three required targets, he felt he'd deserve something for putting up with Scout and that god awful room. Not to keep complaining about the room, but it was fucking shit and the author won't let it drop because they just want you to know how bad it is for some reason.

He took his time perusing the streets of the city. Less cars out, less people, more crime... Closed shops... He passed the coffee shop he'd been in earlier. It was an alright place, quaint, not too shabby, but subpar to what he would normally find in France. The office building was only ten minutes away now tops without traffic in the way, which would be give him about fifteen before the man's shift supposedly ended. Spy was rather thankful no one walked down the street he was on. It wasn't like he couldn't disguise if he needed to, but the damned thing only had so much charge in it, even if it was more reliable than his invisiwatch. He didn't want to waste it on a civilian if he might need it against someone threatening, you know?

Spy stopped as he began to approach the alleyway that led to the doors of the office building. Was that... Did he hear talking? There was time before the target's shift ended, but as he got closer he heard a masculine voice talking on the phone. Too far away to decipher the words, but the man sounded gruff. With a quick peek past the corner of the building by the alley he could confirm that voice in fact came from his soon-to-be victim. Maybe... He got out of work early? Something about the situation disturbed the spy on a level he couldn't place, but could supplement a word for: foreboding. A warning.

Cloaked, the Spy decided it would be best to go for the kill now. The man was distracted on the phone, laughing away in the middle of some lighthearted conversation. "Oh, that? Haha yeah I got them too! Remember when I shoved the shiv up his spihaha yeah yeah I know, I know I gotta get back to work, don't worry. You know I sure as hell ain't forgot about that meeting."

Meeting... Spy was already waiting for the phone call to end as he slowly approached the man. He'd be taking notes as well now.

"By that old place? Mmhmm yeah, I can do that. Oh don't worry, we got that gold stuff, nice and shiny that shit is. I'll be gettin' a nice island outta this when we're done, ain't that right?"

So this was definitely his target. Blatantly boasting about having a stash of Australium was the mistake of a rookie though. That meant this kill should be easy if the man was that stupid. Spy was nearly upon him now, two meters away, butterfly knife ready, cloak still activated. Just a few more seconds...

"Ah right, I gotta go. Got somethin' to take care of up at work, can' let the boss chew me out." Spy's cloak began to deactivate as he stepped within a meter of the man. "Talk to ya later, night-" *SHTCK*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh I wonder what happens next?~


	3. Talk to ya later, night-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little tough from here on out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so, make sure you've read the tags! <3 I mean I'm sure you have if you're reading this fanfic, but if you're unsure about gore here's a warning to back out! 
> 
> I had to split this chapter into two because a) I wrote about double the first chapter and b) I don't have much time and I'm only now working on what's to be chapter 5 so I don't want to run out of content!
> 
> Basically- sorry if this chapter runs a little short, I have more content written!

So close. Just four feet and he'd practically be breathing down the man's neck, within two at the perfect distance to strike. He just needed to let him finish...

"Ah right, I gotta go. Got somethin' to take care of up at work, can' let the boss chew me out." Spy's cloak began to deactivate as he stepped within a meter of the man. "Talk to ya later, night-" *SHTCK*

His target lowered the phone and swung backwards with his other arm so suddenly it was only a flash to his assassin.

Spy stumbled backwards as he dropped his knife. For a moment he didn't realize what had happened until his knees were threatening to give out on him and he was nearly crumbling to the ground. He reached up to hold his throat- right above the middle- the man had sliced his throat open. He tried to make his mind work to do something, but as he gasped his throat seized. The cut wasn't that deep, but nerves were always so sensitive there that his vocal chords refused to find the ability to function.

"Thought you had me there, didn't you." His target had now turned around to face him. He had a malicious smile on his face and his entire voice had shifted into something else, another accent entirely. 

"I played you pretty good there!" he looked down at his knife and then his handiwork as he grinned. Spy could only hold his throat with one arm as he glanced at the ground for his balisong. God damn that knife for being so small! God damn HIM for not bringing his revolver! 

"Oh, don't worry about that little scalpel~ It wouldn't do well against my knife." The man cooed as he flipped his own weapon over. It was definitely longer than Spy's butterfly knife, he had a point there. 

As his mind began to work again, Spy decided to risk his throat hurting and reached down for his cloak- only to get grabbed by the collar and thrown against the wall instead. The side of his head rammed into the wall rather roughly and he heard his earpiece sputter to life as it turned on. The call would be connecting soon, shit. He needed to turn it off, but found himself both too dizzy to react in the heat of the moment and one of his arms injured and the other being pinned by the man. Shit.

"I'd love to take my time with you, but I'm afraid I do have work to do after this." The target almost sounded disappointed, but if it was because Spy had been so easy to take down or because he couldn't torture the man for much longer was up to debate. As Spy expected, the earpiece was calling the base. Damn that thing! Within moments someone picked up.

"Spy? Sorry about earlier, I left to go get something for us to eat and Scout-" her voice was easily drowned out by his assaulter. God, something looked wrong with him. Something about the whites of his eyes threw him off, they looked sickly. Not red in a high sense, but almost like, god, blood? Spy's vision was slightly red as it is though so he couldn't quite place it.

"Thinking you could take me out alone? I don't know you enough to call that bravery or stupidity. I'd wager the latter, however, seeing how utterly fragile you are-"

"Spy? SPY?!" Oh, Pauling had heard that. Spy's heart was hammering in his chest- he was dead- he was never scared of death why should he be stressing out now but god he had gotten so used to respawn damn team fortress for making him soft! He could trace all of his dulled skills to that damned war he was involved in. "SPY?! SPY TALK TO ME!"

Of course, Spy didn't dare say a thing right now. He could not risk giving away that he was in fact working with three other people a few miles away, IN the city. 

"You seem to be at a loss for words. Scared? Spies aren't usually so distastefully useless." the man mocked him. He was trying to get something out of the spy, and succeed he did. That very well pissed him off and he would've struggled harder had he recovered from his daze quicker.

"Va te faire foutre*." he hissed at his assaulter. To hell with him!

"Oh, god you remind me of a bloody cat, hissing like that."

"Spy damnit! What's going on out there?!" Pauling insisted on trying to contact him. 

"Anyways," the man continued, voice dripping with venom. His eyes were definitely bloodshot, the veins around them looked wrong. Had this man experimented with himself and the Australium? Spy didn't have the time or energy to ponder the thought, "I'm going to enjoy ripping you apart." Had he seen a glint in the man's smile? Something wrong, something off-

"SPY!" Pauling screamed into his ear as his neck suddenly felt very hot and very, very painful. It clicked in his slightly sluggish mind that when the man had said rip him apart, he meant it. He was ripping his neck out. Wait, he wAS RIPPING HIS NECK OUT-

The spy's survival instincts suddenly kicked in and his vocal chords protested the assault, his voice coming out in garbled french slurs and threats. And then pleas. No matter how much his throat burned he found himself kicking and grabbing at the man, although he found the efforts fruitless.

He recognized Pauling saying something on the other end of the call, but his mind couldn't string together the words. His threats broke down into cries as there was a sudden push, like a pulse almost, of something entering his bloodstream, making his entire body tingle and ache within seconds. And more pain as air rushed to meet his injury as the man pulled away, and Spy's throat began flooding with blood. 

Lots of blood. As much blood that even though Spy was losing consciousness and the proper awareness to do anything, he knew he was dying. It was too much blood, he must have ripped a piece of his throat out, part of what should be circulating flooding out of his mouth, too much blood g o d -

He could only see the vague details of his target as he let go of Spy and he fell to the ground, back skidding the wall roughly. Out of the fuzzy shapes and throbbing in his vision he could see that the entire lower half of the man's face was covered in red. He wanted to curse this absolutely insane man! He also recognized what looked like normal eyes again. How... Peculiar. If only he had the energy to care with an entire chunk of his throat missing.

The man was saying words but he only caught bits and pieces of it. "...Pathetic thing, getting... Suit bloody like... Had fun carving into... Just... Be Happy that venom should finish you off soon, nice and quick." his mind managed to focus enough to get that last bit. Venom? Was that what was making his body want (and fail) to curl up into a fetal position, that aching throughout his limbs despite having only been attacked from the neck up? 

If his 'target' said anything more he didn't catch it, and soon enough was left alone to bleed to death in the alleyway. His throat burned so viciously. He'd suffered worse on the battlefield, but it usually ended before now. He would have respawned minutes ago... He let it settle in that he wouldn't be respawning this time.

"Spy? Sp-" Pauling again. "Huh?" she stopped talking for a second. "Spook?! Are ya alright?" Spy sputtered out a crimson stream as he fought to speak. 

"Oui, of c-course.. ." it was both out of spite and a sinking feeling about this that made him slip out the sarcastic words

"Oh hell mate, you sound like shit." He imagined Sniper meant to be more graceful, but from his tone of voice he seemed to be in complete shock. So was Spy... Soon, if he didn't die before it set it. For a moment he was thankful the earpiece was close enough that he had to hear it, unlike the chopped up phrases he got out of his 'target'. 

"Are you- are you alright out there? Miss Paulin' sounds so worried but the sheila won't tell us anythin'-"

His answer came from a choked sob as Spy coughed up blood he'd been trying to hold down.

"Oh bugger, oh- alright- I- I'm going to-"

"N-No! Non. N... No need." Spy interrupted him before he could offer to rescue him. If that maniac was still around, he was certain he'd be waiting for someone to come by. Just because Spy didn't think he knew about the rest of his team didn't mean he DIDN'T have intel. He'd hate to be the bait to take down two more perfectly capable mercenaries. (Well, a mercenary and a boy anyways)

"Agh bugger, Spy! Y'can't argue w-" Spy did what he thought would be best in the moment to dissuade the Sniper, and turned off the receiver. No need to worry him more than necessary, they still had three targets they would need to track down... And there was no way he figured he could be rescued... Not without respawn or a Medic nearby.   
Not with the way his throat still sputtered out blood dangerously fast, and the way his vision was cutting out.

Perhaps, his mind thought as it slipped into unconsciousness, the Sniper would realize that he didn't really have a reason to save the cunning, sharp, and absolutely crude and horrible assassin. 

-

 

"What do ya mean don't go?!" Sniper exclaimed, already near the door.

"It's not safe! Spy maintained contact for five minutes- he probably turned off the receiver to keep us away- he might have told them we're here! We can't trust all these variables Sniper!"

"He's a mercenary, and a bloody good one at that- he's a part of our team miss!" Sniper countered. Scout hadn't butt into the argument... Yet. He didn't quite have a grasp of what was going on, only that something terrible had happened to Spy. He could very well be dead.

"I can't risk losing two more of you!" Pauling cried. She didn't know what to do this hadn't happened before, not like this, not in this situation, her mind wracked with all the possible things that could have gone wrong between Spy and the target.

"Well I can, and with all due respect, I'm going to save my bloody friend. C'mon Scout!" his voice lowed to a dangerous level before he called for Scout and opened the door, slamming it behind him. Scout gave his boss a concerned look before hopping off the table he was sitting on and grabbing his bat.

"'M sorry miss, but Snipes is right. I mean I hate the guy an' all but I can't just leave 'em behind, whatever happened out there. Coulda' been me, yknow?" with that he dashed out the door, baseball slung over his shoulder.

"Shit!" Pauling cursed. She fell into her chair at the tiny desk and curled into a fetal position, head falling into her knees immediately. "What am I supposed to do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Sniper's pissed and worried out of his mind, Scout's got a sinking feeling and Pauling doesn't know what to do. Wonderful times!!
> 
> Also I keep imagining Scout with Spiderman/Peter Parker's voice and I'm not sure how to feel about that.  
> //suddenly replacing Spiderman with Scout and Iron Man with Spy oH NO Oh nO-


	4. Neosporin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW  
> gore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)
> 
> If you notice something wrong feel free to let me know!! I am a bit scatterbrained so I may accidentally typed wrong things or even copy parts of the last chapters into future ones aha

Sniper dashed out the front door and sprinted down the street towards the location of Spy. He knew it was the right way because Pauling had already been driving there, and he'd sneaked a peek at the map. Four blocks down, two to the left. The motel Spy stayed at was eight blocks back from the office building. He had to run it through his head frantically so he didn't forget it.

He'd also expected Scout to surpass him quickly, but it seemed the boy was suffering from such a loss of caffeine that he hardly managed to keep up with the Australian instead.

"S' we get to 'em, an' then wha'?" Scout asked between breaths as the Sniper and he raced past an apartment complex. For someone who hadn't had all that much contact with the Spy nor built any real friendship with him, Sniper was clearly determined to get to him before something worse happened. Worse like death.

"An' then we take the bloody bloke back to Pauling, or th' motel." Sniper replied quickly.

"Aight, but if we... Well... What if we get to 'em afta it's too late?" They both knew how inappropriate the question was to assume their friend would be dead, but Scout knew it was still possible. The kid didn't want to be surprised with it when he got there. Sniper, on the otherhand had seen friends die, and he had always rather avoided the topic.

"He won' be." Snipes stated rather harshly, and that was the end of the discussion. He abruptly turned down when he'd counted to the fourth block, and Scout almost stumbled into the street. The two had to swerve around a car (points for tunnel vision on Sniper) as they sprinted down streets and through red traffic symbols. A ticket was a small price to pay for a teammate.

It took no time at all for Sniper to skid to a halt on the street he (hoped he) remembered Spy being on. two blocks to the left, if he remembered correctly. Scout came to a halt behind him, panting wildly. "Man, 'm gonna need a coffee after this..." he wheezed as he bent over.

Sniper didn't respond as he walked down the street, checking both sides of the road for signs of anyone as well as the small halls and alleys some of the buildings branched off into. He had half a mind to lecture Scout about joking right now, but refrained from it. Not only would the boy not be able to properly comprehend the situation but stupid humor was more welcome than blatant pessimism. Although he could tell Scout just expected Medic would be able to fix anything that was wrong with Spy- and maybe he could have- if he had come with them on the mission.

Scout had already settled with leaning against a wall to catch his breath when he saw Sniper look to his right, cringe, stiffen- and then rush into the darkness of an alleyway. "Oh fuck wait for me!" He yelled as he ran after him.

Sniper had to squint to make out the form of Spy half-sitting, half-laying against a wall deep into the alley beside him. He'd almost let his eyes simply graze over him, but being a sniper he had an eye for picking out the 'living', so to speak. Immediately running for the downed teammate he dropped beside him to assess the issue at hand. "Spy! I- we came as quick as we could mate." his voice was steady as he looked over the nearly unconscious assassin. Aside from being harshly paler than usual, he could tell the balaclava the Spy usually wore had been tugged up where an awful chunk of his throat was gone- like someone had just up and ripped it out. Spy was struggling to stay awake, his eyes drifted sluggishly up to Sniper and his brows creased in a frown, but if he wanted to say something he didn't dare try. Sniper could imagine that even breathing must be a harsh task for the mercenary right now.

Scout barreled around the corner and skidded to a halt. "Oh, oh man what happened here?" He muttered (rather loudly) as he took in the large puddles of dried blood in the middle of the alley and around Spy. Then he saw the man himself. "Oh fuck, that's bad." Sniper gave him a harsh glare. But he was right, Spy could hardly even manage to open his eyes enough to look at Sniper. "Can ye... Can ye move?" he half-asked Spy as he was already moving to sit him up straight so he could decide whether to help him stand or pick him up. His voice stayed frighteningly level- he'd dealt with dying aquaintences before. He'd reacted by freaking out once and it hadn't done a damn to help the problem, so he'd learned to pretend everything could be fixed.

Spy flinched when Sniper tried to set him up, unable to inch away but still clearly unappreciative of the help. He let out something that Sniper swore was a death rattle before managing a hushed "al..les-vouz en..." all the while staring tired daggers at Sniper.

"Spook, if you wanna talk, 'm gonna need ya to speak my language." Sniper replied calmly as he kept Spy sat up despite the clear hate he was getting for it. A trickle of blood was streaming from the lithe assassin's mouth as he translated his sentence, "go away." It was so strained and hard to understand the sniper had almost mistaken it for French again.

"Ah sorry mate, not happenin'." It hurt Sniper more than he could explain that his own teammate was trying to get himself killed. He must be suspecting an ambush on them, but even if push came to shove Sniper would order to Scout to leave. He himself always took the saying "leave no man behind" to heart. Assuming correctly that Spy was going to make no effort to move (or had he earlier and failed?) Sniper tucked one arm behind his back and one under his knees and lifted him up bridal style. God the man was lighter than he'd expected. Through the intimidating facade the assassin was trying to put on he could see how glazed the man's eyes had become.

He was dying on them every second they wasted.

Scout, who'd shut himself up for once after Sniper gave him the death stare, shuffled around as said man turned around with the bloodied and borderline unconscious spy in his arms. He looked so pathetic like that, holding his neck weakly as though it would stop anything that hadn't already come spilling out.

"I'll uh, keep a lookout." he mumbled as kept a certain distance between himself and Spy.

Spy was shaking uncontrollably in Sniper's arms, his mouth sputtering in a way that could both be read as trying to speak and trying to withold himself from coughing up blood. "Hold in there, mate. Don' die on me yet." Sniper said quietly. If there were respawn he simply would have taken matters into his own hands (if Spy hadn't at that point) and sent the assassin through it, but this was 'real life', and he knew how dangerous it was to hold onto that fantasy of simply coming back even when you knew it wouldn't happen. Spy hardly reacted, his eyes were staring off into space unfocused. He wasn't even sure if Spy had heard what he said.

Hardly a few steps after that and Spy shifted before faimbécilelling limp, somehow becoming deader weight to the Sniper. He glanced down worriedly before realizing he was still alive. Scout looked over at them before startling and fumbling for something in his ear that Sniper could just make out to be a receiver.

"M-Miss?" Scout tried to sound brave, but his voice hardly hid how shaken he was. "Nah, nah I'm f-fine o'course!" he looked back at Spy for a moment, seeming to assess him from as far away and as quickly as possible. "Y-yeah he's fine. Out cold but fine... What? Yeah ya heard me right, what about it? Oh.. I mean like, he's a-alive an' everything... Oh, well he uh, his neck uh- you're talkin' too fast miss Paulin'- God!" Scout ripped the earpiece from his head. "I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but I can't talk to her right now!" he walked over to Sniper and quickly thrust the receiver around his head. "You tell er for me!"

Sniper, unable to really react with his hands occupied with holding a borderline corpse, let Scout do whatever he was doing. Up close he could see the boy was pale and sweating.

"Scout? Scout what's going on?"

"Well hello, Miss Pauling." Sniper answered coolly. He'd managed to keep his composture fairly well so far, best not to lose that talking to his boss.

"Oh good, Sniper. I got worried there for a second. Scout's shaken up, what happened to Spy? Is he actually okay? How bad do his injuries look, where is he right now-"

"Miss," Sniper interrupted, "He's... A-Alive. The spook's neck looks like it was... Ripped out. But he's alive- unconscious, I got 'em, but alive nonetheless." He hated that the shaking in his hands was leaking into his voice. He didn't tell her that Spy could barely talk without choking on spit and blood and that he was deathly pale.

"I- I see." Pauling sounded confused, and he could guess why, but he was thankful she didn't ask any more questions. "I want you two to take him back to the motel. I'll bring first aid as soon as possible."

"Was already on the way there mate."

"And Sniper? For what it's worth, sorry for trying to stop you from saving him."

With his adrenaline up, he'd almost forgotten about that. "No hard feelings mate, ya just wanted to keep as many of us alive as possible. I do too." He wasn't the type to dwell on or hold grudges anyways. Pauling ended the call for him and Scout went back to making sure no one saw them carrying a bloody bloke down the street. He only had to knock out one or two people on the way to the motel, and the parking lot of the probably one star company seemed deathly vacant.

Sniper managed to get a key card out of Spy's pocket by (nearly breaking) bending his wrist at an awful angle while he was holding the limp man. The room number on it was 38, just up the stairs from where the two were now. He told Scout and the boy dashed up a set of nearby concrete stairs. Sniper, on the other hand, had more trouble, but made it up there eventually.

He threw the key card at Scout, and inside quickly laid Spy down on the single bed. He'd gotten worryingly colder as time went on, so he threw whatever covers there were on top of him for good measure. Scout had already collapsed in a chair at a small round table as Sniper rushed for the bathroom. It was tiny, as motel bathroom's usually are, but he couldn't find a damned first aid kit. The sink had no drawers for one and there was only one towel and washcloth there. 'It'll have to do' he thought as he hastily snatched them up and left for Spy.

Scout seemed at a loss for what to do- he'd never really saved anyone before. " 'S there anythin' I can do?" He asked Sniper meekly.

"Try an' find me a first aid kit. I need to stop him bleeding as much as I can." he replied quickly. He hadn't really thought about it, but a glance down at himself spoke more to Scout than he could. The right side of his vest and some of his shirt was outright plastered in nothing but drying blood, and his hands and arms had not been spared either. His right hand was nearly entirely crimson, and considering he'd wiped his hands on his pants and once around his face from an itch- oof.

Scout jumped up and began rummaging around to find one. If he didn't, Sniper was sure he'd run out of there and ask for one from the front desk.

While Scout busied himself, Sniper quickly lifted Spy's head up and put the towel around the back of his neck but close to the left side of his neck where he'd been wounded. He used the towel to dab at the injury and soak up as much blood as possible. A lot of it was already fairly dry, though. As was the blood that had been dribbling down his chin, which he then returned with a wet towel to wipe off.

Sniper almost pulled the balaclava off so he could assess if he'd hit his head or not, but a few things kept him from doing so. One, no one here had ever seen him without that stupid mask on. No one but Medic, who he'd practically slaughtered with rage afterwards. Sniper didn't want that if- when he woke up. And then there was the excuse that he didn't see any blood around the mask and he figured if there had been a concussion there would be no signs of it anyways. So instead he folded up the balaclava until it wasn't touching the wound anymore.

"God that's a bloody nasty wound..." Sniper muttered, but covered it up with, "but not too bad, o'course. Don't die over a little flesh wound."

As the Australian let himself begin to ease down at the fact that Spy was alive, breathing, and not covered in blood anymore, he noticed again how cold he was. It must have been from the blood loss- because he was sure the man should be dead considering how much was in the alleyway- and it left him near freezing even with the covers on. He definitely felt like a dead body. The thought alone unnerved him again.

There was a sudden quick succession of knocks at the motel door. Scout peeked out of the bathroom and looked at Sniper with intense caution. "Guys? Open up it's just me." Upon hearing Pauling's quick voice, however, Scout lost the scared look in his eyes and dashed with a slight smile for the door.

"Oh, miss pauling! Comin'!" He tried to swing the door open but it only made a loud thud. He then quickly unlatched the lock and opened the door to a worried and frankly frazzled miss Pauling. She had a large first aid kit tucked under her arm and the brick excuse for a phone on top of it. She was wearing a rough looking thin coat over her purple dress as she walked inside and quickly took in the mess that was Spy.

Sniper stood back to let her approach him and assess the man properly- she's probably one of the best people to do anything doctor related considering Medic isn't here, Scout only knows how to hit things and Sniper is too shaken up that a teammate he's known die over and over might actually be dying for good.

"It's not as bad as it was earlier, but he's bloody cold." Sniper pointed out as she checked over the unconscious assassin quickly, plopping the first aid kit on the bed and pulling out an assortment of items. She opened a small circular container with a clear gel inside.

"Wha's that?" Sniper asked quietly. He trusted Pauling, but he didn't trust Medic. For all he knew that first aid kit was 'Medic approved' with an assortment of experiments in the medicines waiting to happen.

"Neosporin." She replied simply.

"Oh, right." He answered and stayed silent as she unraveled the towel that was already falling off of Spy's neck and dabbed a bunch of the clear gel around and into the wound. That kind of medicine was supposed to stop pain, but waking up to it shoved inside your neck didn't sound very pain relieving. After she applied the gel she took out a roll of bandages and speedily wrapped them around him. Somehow he didn't slump over awkwardly... Worryingly, he didn't wake up. But Pauling made no comment on it except, "god, he's freezing." and promptly slung the thin coat she'd brought over him. If three layers of sheets and blankets didn't help before surely one more would do the trick.

She stepped away to admire her work.

"I'm afraid that's all I can do right now." Pauling sighed as she clapped her hands together. His wound had begun to open up quickly so she had a bit of blood here and there, but nothing she wasn't used to. "Sorry." Her voice cracked a little- god damn not everyone had to be putting up a strong front! And yet, everyone here was. Pauling, himself, even Scout to... Some extent. He was more so struggling to even grasp the situation at hand.

"Don' be, it's... It's not your fault this happened." Sniper did his best to console her, but he wasn't quite sure what to say. It had been so long since he'd actually had to deal with this. Back during turf wars if he wasn't killing Spy because he was on the enemy team he'd be mercy killing him because he was ON his team. It was just so much easier to send someone through respawn than... This.

No one was properly equipped to handle the situation.

Finally Scout spoke up, peering over Pauling's shoulder at the near dead Spy. Of course he was going to act tough in front of her. "Oh man, thanks Pauling. I mean, I coulda done all that if I found a first aid kit but y'know, ya got here first so..." Pauling didn't look entertained. "I uh... Yeah. Anyways um, thanks. Wanna... Can I... Can we go get a coffee real quick?" He asked hesitantly as his act started to wither away. Pauling almost declined until she saw in his face that he clearly just wanted to get away for a moment. To act like things were fine.

"I- Yeah, sure." She looked over at Spy for a moment, then Sniper. "He's lost too much blood. Keep him warm."

As she went to turn to the door Scout pointed at her bloody hands. After a quick wash she and Scout were gone, Pauling clearly being the more resistant one as she side-eyed the body on the way out.

"Right, I'll just... Do... That." Sniper said slowly as the two left him abruptly. "...Huh." He looked back at Spy. He needed... A heating pad? More blankets? No, he needed something warm like a heater, but the motel was shit so of course it didn't have that. So the next best thing would be- "oh fuck it" he thought scornfully as he shoved the body (gently) aside to give himself room. He'd use his own body heat.

He'd assumed with his adrenaline pumping and worrying over his teammate would keep him up, but he didn't realize it had left him drained, and within half an hour he'd passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure how much more of this I'll be writing (I should have noted coming into this story that my motivation is so finicky that long stories are never good for me) but I'll work through it as long as I can! I'mstillintoTF2don'tworry!! long one shots are just my expertise so to say...


	5. Small talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> basically subtle gay  
> only TW would be aftermath of nasty wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this miiight be a short and slow chapter- sorry!  
> It took me a good while to get this one out oof,, this is why I should stick to oneshots!  
> uh h h also it's been a good while since I heard the mercs voices so apologies if they lose some of their character! I did my best

  
He'd expected to wake up to his smoking room back at the base before he remembered the mission. Then he'd anticipated the rv, then the motel, then he realized he should be seeing nothing- he should be DEAD. But here he was, wincing painfully as his eyes slowly adjusted to seeing the white- red more so- of the bed sheets in front of him. His head was throbbing much like when he'd get migraines as a child, and he realized his body was frighteningly cold. What exactly had happened? He remembered a vague figure, he knew he had lost the fight (obviously), and he definitely must have hit his head. It hurt too much to bother remembering right now.  
  
Had the Medic come for him after all? This vaguely felt like a Medic-esque experiment hangover, just without the medigun. The more he forced himself to think through the headache, the more he realized that no- his entire body wasn't cold- just his arms and everything not touching his back. And his left side..  
  
His head was already angled down slightly and with a glance he could see an arm was draped over him- it was their right arm, they were on their back, or sitting beside him- someone was right beside him? Wait a fucking moment who the fuck, why the fuck- he tried to move around but all he got from his body was painful twitching. His mind raced as he noticed the same red, the same blood, covering the arm as it did the sheets of the bed.  
  
"Mmnn oh bloody fuck sorry- I fell asleep sittin' there." Came the australian mumbling he quickly recognized as Sniper. He felt him shuffle around and hope off the bed. Spy managed to force himself up into a semi-seated position as he leaned on a nearby pillow for support, sluggishly but quickly making space between the two. Half of him was screaming as to why he would have been sitting right up against him in the first place, but the other half rationalized that if he was alive, Miss Pauling had seen him, and Sniper must have been keeping him warm. He did feel like a freezer after all. Not to mention the damned moldy motel room didn't have a heater and their blankets might as well be recycled plastic.  
  
Still, his adrenaline was pumping (albeit weakly) and such an intrusion coupled with his own confusion was enough for him to prompt information out of Sniper. He opened his mouth to speak, then choked when a hot pain seared up instead of words.  
  
"You okay Spook?!" Spy looked up to see Sniper looking almost paler than he was. He managed a quick glare at him before grasping his throat as if it would ease the pain. His hands came into contact with rough fabric- bandages. He must have looked bewildered, as Sniper shuffled around awkwardly. After a few moments Spy got tired of him being so frantic and waved him off, forcing himself to swallow back down what he hoped wasn't blood. He didn't have the energy to deal with an equally worried human being right now lest he lose whatever control over his own shaking hands he has now.  
  
Spy couldn't grasp the situation for a few long moments. His eyes were wide open as he tried to understand what had happened. He remembered being attacked, vaguely, he must have hit his head on the wall- yes! He'd been thrown- pushed?- into the wall. Everything had been a bit dizzy from then on, but then he remembered... Remembered... His target had assaulted him. He had tried to kill him... Half of his face had been covered in blood, h i s blood-  
  
"Spy." Sniper was suddenly leaning down, eye level with Spy. The assassin's eyes dragged upwards slowly until he met the sniper's- his hands were firmly planted on his shaky shoulders. How long had he been there again?  
  
Spy tried once more to speak. He remembered being called during the situation, and Sniper had talked to him. He'd hung up so they wouldn't come, fearing an ambush. He must have rescued him anyways.  
  
"imbécile... I t-told you I didn't.. n-need help." Spy was too weak to shake off the hands on his shoulder as he fought back bile- or blood- or both, from coming out at the end of his sentence. Sniper noticed how strained he sounded and let out a sigh.  
  
"Yeah, you sure had 'em Spook." He offered a half smile at him, but he wasn't even trying to cover up his own thick worry.  
  
Spy wanted to snap at him, but his throat refused. Instead he sighed back and looked over to the edge of the bed. Propping his head in his hands he closed his eyes, taking in that he was in fact alive- he was breathing- he had lived in spite of respawn, despite trying to stop his teammates. They had saved him, but for what? Risking their own lives? It ticked him off to no end.  
  
"Anyways, you uh... Want some coffee?" the sniper asked suddenly as he got up. "It helps me calm down sometimes."   
  
Unable to talk without surely vomiting some unsettling combination of stomach acid and blood, Spy nodded. He mulled over how it would probably be a horrible idea with whatever condition his throat was in (he refused to so much as touch it again right now) but he could guess Sniper was just as anxious as he was right now, if about other things than a ripped out throat.   
  
Sniper made the coffee in silence for them both, giving Spy some much needed minutes to think about what had happened. That, and how he remembered there was no coffee machine before. Perhaps Pauling had snuck one in while he'd been out cold. Regardless, he knew he needed to sift through the events that happened.   
  
Of course, you'd think one who's gone through respawn more times than they can count would be numb to death. But instead it... Made it more terrifying. Once you get so used to "dying" and coming back in a split second all well again, actually facing the real thing is so god damn scary. Most people are scared of death. Most people don't know what it's like. But he and his team, they've felt it. Over, and over and over again... It was hard to remind himself that he couldn't rely on risky behavior and respawn again. He couldn't just hunt someone down and be done with it, because there were no extra chances.  
  
He hadn't known how terrified he looked until Sniper came walking back with a hot mug of coffee. Spy shook his head as he straightened up, wincing as his neck burned with the movement, and graciously took the outstretched cup. He didn't dare drink from it yet.  
  
The sniper plopped down on the bed next to him, staring into his own cup silently. Spy couldn't blame him- how do you just hold a normal conversation after this? You don't just talk about the weather, but Sniper had to know he sure as hell didn't want to talk about last night. Wait... He had only been out for the night, right?   
  
"It's seven thirty, Pauling and the kid should be 'ere soon. I don' think either of 'em slept well."  
  
Well that answered his question at the very least. The coffee felt so warm to him he could hardly hold it, both blistering and a saving grace. His circulation must be shit right now, he knew he had lost a lot of blood wait no no stop thinking about that. His hands shook harder every time his mind grazed over last night, but they were burned into the forefront of his mind.  
  
'Stop dissociating you messy fuck' he hissed at himself, realizing Sniper was still sitting there in silence.   
  
"Do you know what will 'appen when they get here?" Spy asked slowly. Sniper shrugged in response, but offered a small smile.  
  
"Well 'm sure, if we're bein' honest, Scout's gonna have a lot of questions. An' Pauling is going to shut him up, an' then we're going to get out o' here."  
  
Spy couldn't help but let out a tiny, strained laugh. He also decided to give his coffee a try finally, and immediately spits it out as he swallows and it flares in his throat with more pain than he thought a sore throat could muster. Of course, this isn't just any sore throat, but the specifics are something he'd rather avoid right now. He put the coffee in his lap and wrung his hands absently to get his mind off of it yet again.  
  
He was rather enjoying the silence, in spite of how awkward and tense it was (despite Sniper's best efforts), but his wound was throbbing and taking over his attention and honestly he needed someone who could actually help him feel better right now. Easing his nerves was one thing, easing the wounded nerves in his neck was another.  
  
"Could you..." he cleared his throat, gaining Sniper's undivided attention. "Could you c-call her for me? I don't want to rush, but-"  
  
"Not a problem, mate," Sniper cut him off, reaching for the receiver on the table. "I understand. Miss Pauling can help ya a lot better than I can, and Scout'll be really relieved to see you awake." He tried to turn the earpiece on, but it didn't. It was dead. With a sigh the sniper got up to grab the bulky brick shaped phone on the nightstand.  
  
"Scout? Happy to see me? HA-" Spy sputtered into a cough. "Th... That's hilarious."  
  
As sniper typed Pauling's number into the box (they were going to have to take it with them to avoid potential tracking now) he replied with "nah mate, ya shoulda seen how spooked the bloke was. Never seen his face that pale before."  
  
"Oh." was all Spy said before the phone began to ring for Pauling. Scout was actually... Worried about him? Of course, he should have expected such, despite how harsh the boy came off as he knew he cared about the lives of his teammates, but he had moreso expected Scout to stay in the van, or shrug and walk away, basically every option other than help save him. Any option other than show how scared he was. Spy thought about how he had almost died, and a thought dawned on him. He had almost abandoned Sc- his mind shut down then, he told himself he wouldn't think about that!  
  
"Ah, Miss Pauling! Yeah, yeah we're okay." Sniper's voice rose into a calmer and friendlier tone on the phone. It was something Spy had observed before was instict to the Australian- he seemed to have manners after all. "I had expected you two would be awake. Oh, Scout's passed out? Well, slap him awake or somethin', we need you up here... No, not death-threatening," Sniper gave Spy a quick glance as if to double-check, "he doesn't feel good. Well o'course I mean it worse than that, but I don' wanna sound rude! Naw, he's on the other side o' the bed 's too late now... No it's fine, jus' come when ya can 'aight? Thanks." Spy could almost chuckle at how messy the conversation progressively became. Sniper hung up with a rather defeated sigh, giving Spy an uneven awkward smile.  
  
"That coulda gone better." he muttered as he pulled away and slumped onto the bed. He examined his hands- they'd both spent their fair share of time ignoring the leftover red on it. He'd washed it when he made coffee, but... They were definitely still a red tint. Spy tried to relax and focus on the warmth of the cup, but he found his thoughts reeling back to everything that was happening. God he HATED being the one in a vulnerable state. More casual conversation with Sniper would be his best help for it right now.  
  
-  
  
"Scout? Scout. Wake up." The hushed, but ever hasty voice of Pauling huffed as she tapped him on the shoulder. Despite Scout's usual reluctance to get up, he snapped awake as soon as something touched him. Flinching until he saw it was just Pauling, he shook his head as if still partially asleep before hopping off of the chair he was slouched in. The two had stayed in the RV they brought- he'd let Pauling have the tiny bed in the back while he took the comfiest chair he could crash in.  
  
"I- huh- um wh-what happened?" He tried to mumble as he tripped over his words and nearly stumbled when he jumped to his feet.  
  
"Not exactly. I was going to let you sleep in, but Sniper wants us both back up at the hotel. Spy might be doing better." Pauling explained quickly as she grabbed a few necessary objects, including a pistol (just in case), and opened the door for them to go. Scout got his bearings together as his sleepiness wore off.   
  
"Wait really?! I mean, not like I doubted he would or anything y'know that bastard can live through anything- I mean- I just didn't want a team member holding us back, yeah. Yeah that's what I meant." The bostonian struggled to put together a sentence with a string of words that didn't betray the relief he felt. He was so obvious, but Pauling did her part of this familiar cherade and said nothing of it.  
  
"It is really good. I was worried... We didn't have Medic here to properly treat him, and if there isn't an infection then I thought the blood loss may have done him in." She said before she glanced at Scout as they walked down the street. His eyes widened for a moment in fear before she quickly tacked on, "of course, I mean, to any normal person. I had far less to worry about with Spy." Pauling coughed awkwardly aftwards, hoping she'd cleared that up alright. Scout may be an adult, but out of all the mercenaries he was understandably the most naive. Dying over and over is one thing when you have something to bring you back, suddenly being thrown into a situation where your own teammate, whether you like them or not, is dying... That's something Pauling didn't quite grasp, and she knew she didn't need to. Scout had a vulnerable mindset, she felt it was her duty to help Spy and preserve that. After all, only she knew about... Well, Spy's relation to Scout. That information itself was an unspoken promise to her. Even if Spy didn't exactly know that she knew (he didn't need to, either).  
  
"Yeah, ya right miss Pauling!" Scout's demeanor changed as he gave her a brighter smile again. She could easily tell how his hands shook that he was still scared, but she appreciated the brave gesture. They'd parked across from the motel for the night, so within the end of the conversation they were at the stairs to the second floor.   
  
A knock on the door to the room and a few moments later Sniper was opening it with a small hello and nervous gesture Pauling quickly noted. As they walked in, she noticed Spy averting his eyes from the both of them.  
  
-  
  
The small talk the two had been trying to indulge in was really NOT hitting it off, and the door was both a saving grace and slap to the face. God, Spy would have to talk to the two of them... Sniper had been more than happy to dash to the door to open it to evade the heavy silence thickening between each thing they talked about.  
  
Spy's eyes averted as soon as he saw the flicker of concern on Pauling. As much as interacting with people was supposed to help him not think about almost dying, he suddenly really wished he could be alone to deal with all of this himself. Desperately, he tried to compose himself as she walked over.  
  
Sniper and Pauling exchanged a quick greeting, Sniper patting Scout on the back as he came in last. Despite Spy's averted stare Pauling quickly came over to inspect the wound, hardly getting a flinch from the french man.  
  
"If you must know, I'm not dying mon ami." He chided sarcastically to break the ice as his head was (rather roughly) tilted to the side so she could get a good look at the bandages. They had been bled through, but she doubted he'd let her so much as touch them right now.  
  
"I know, I.. Good Morning." his boss replied as she sighed, stepping away and falling into the chair at the small table the motel had. One of the legs rocked dangerously as her arm fell onto the tabletop. "I can't sleep when something like this happens- it's too much when too many factors are involved- I- I'm sorry."   
  
Before Spy could manage a reply (he was slow to do much of anything with a burning throat anyways), Sniper chipped in a serious, "and what would you be sorry for? Wasn' your fault now, not Spy's either."   
  
Pauling gave him a small smile that betrayed the dark bags under her eyes.   
  
"I just feel like I should have come up with a better plan. Let Spy take Scout with him, or... I don't even know."  
  
"Let us put this behind us then, Pauling." Spy chided in finally. He didn't want them to dwell on what they could've done now- and as much as he wanted to reassure Pauling she had done nothing wrong he could only string out so many words at once. That and getting the topic off of himself sounded very appealing.  
  
There was a moment of silence in the air before Scout walked into the trio's conversation. "He's right. Speakin' a' which, didn' you say you were gonna get a hold of Medic, miss?"  
  
"O-Oh, that's right! I um, I called Medic up last night. He said he's in Tuefort's blue base, the only thing between us and him is a town. It's a blood bath over there, but there's a respawn system up and running for now and he said he could help you if we came over. That and... Administrator isn't answering my calls. Without info from her to track anyone down, and limited money, we don't really have any other choice."  
  
"Well that doesn't soun' too bad! As long as we can respawn Medic can take as long as he needs healin' Spy, right?"  
  
"Oui, I like this plan." Spy croaked.  
  
"The only problem is that the place is... Crawling with enemies. There are some of Gray Mann's robots and other people there like the one Spy had to track down. We don't know what they're capable of. Medic, Soldier, and Demo are hardly holding them back as is."  
  
"Well that just sounds like more reason to get over there, don't it?!" Scout jumped up. "They need our help, right?"  
  
"The kid's right. Sound's like they need a lil' backup." Sniper smiled as he folded his arms.  
  
"I'm just worried that without Engie there to keep the respawn system intact it'll... You're right. They're all we have, anyways. We need to leave as soon as possible, though. He sounded urgent then."  
  
"Then let's get a move on. Mate, can you-" Sniper turned towards Spy  
  
"I am good on my own." Spy snapped as he interrupted Sniper. Immediately regretting it, he sighed through clenched teeth. He wasn't good on his own in fact, the blood loss leaving him light-headed and disoriented. With a disgruntled sigh he held out a hand at the subtly offended Australian (who quickly blew it off with a smirk as Spy conceded). Pauling exchanged a momentary glance at the condition once more before heading outside, seemingly satisfied no infections should occur on the way there. Scout held the door open for the hobbling duo as Spy supported himself on Sniper's shoulder, occasionally casting a deathly glare the sniper's way.  
  
He just hoped they got this whole injury- and the asshole that nearly killed him- dealt with soon.


	6. Wound inspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> welcome to an episode of: "this entire chapter ruined the pacing of my story but I was too lazy to rewrite over a thousand words when I found out"   
> also called, spy stares at himself for 2000 words

The “walk” to the RV was slow, but with Scout keeping a bit too far ahead and regaining his cocky nature slowly, Pauling dropping back to check on Spy every ten seconds, and the Sniper shambling awkwardly beside the limping Frenchman, they all managed to make it across the street and to the van in good enough time. Sniper had to help pull Spy up the steps to the long vehicle, who immediately collapsed in the nearest seat and glared at Pauling every time she tried to check his bandage. Scout had retreated to his crate.

Traffic wasn’t all that bad either, thankfully, so the ride out wasn’t slow and it was easy for them to keep a check on any potential enemies following them. It was also on their way out of the city that they all collectively realized they’d forgotten the coffee machine in the motel room. It… Was going to be a long ride.

Spy found himself tired but unable to sleep. A harsh throbbing in his head was too strong to ignore, and his anxious thoughts kept winning the battle for sleep that his body screamed for. Even though he’d just slept for a good… How long had he been out? At least nine hours, surely. But his throat burned and his head strained every time he _thought_ and frankly it was driving him mad.

Staring out the window only did enough to distract him for a while. After an hour of the same flat landscape and occasional bushes among spotty populations of trees, he couldn’t take staring at grass anymore. His body trembled with both pain and leftover anxiety, and something else he couldn’t place. His hands were cold- he did have almost half of his blood spilled out his body after all- or drained- he shoved the word away from this thoughts. And it must have been the fabric, but the wound not only burned, but it itched and felt… Wrong. It was a deeper aching pain that he swore he could trace throughout his whole body.

Those thoughts only made his anxiety worse. He had a mirror shoved around somewhere, his eyes darted around the RV quickly as he tried to place it. Sniper seemed to notice (Spy thought he’d dozed off, he hadn’t).

“Whatcha’ need mate?” he asked, his accent light. Spy looked at his face and- hHHH. The Australian looked genuinely concerned for him.

“It… Iz nothing.” Spy turned away and huffed.

“Oh, well, alright then.” Sniper shrugged, though looking a slight bit put off. Spy made his own small effort to stand up then to look for the mirror himself, but upon finding all strength in his body gone he made it appear that he was just shifting around instead.

But the flaring of the wound, he… He needed to check on it. Just to be safe.

Sighing, he cleared his throat painfully, “I need a mirror.”

Sniper nodded, understanding why (why else), and got up to look. Luckily it only took a moment to find it- stashed with a bunch of random stuff on a tall shelf that would have originally been cabinets for the tiny kitchen the RV had. Spy quickly snatched it up, thanking Sniper quietly and turning away to check the skin around the bandage.

He knew how to re-wrap it, even if it might be hard to do on himself, so he figured if he could just manage to actually get up and go to the bathroom with the roll he could check it by himself and leave everyone else out of his business.

The skin that could see didn’t seem particularly like anything- coated in blood, sure, but the bandage was so wide it covered any bruising from the bite and all he could really tell from it was that there was a slight indention where the wound was, a bit of a wide indention but a shallow one. Though the bandages were tight so he couldn’t tell _how_ shallow it really was…

He decided the pain of having to walk on his own was worth it. He knew his injury was wrong- there was something inherently different in the way it hurt and he wanted to know why. If he was poisoned, if an artery was healing improperly- anything would honestly ease his mind. Not knowing what could be bringing about his demise was worse to him than knowing he’d been injected with some slow lingering poison from the attack. At least that would give any explanation for why he’d been attacked like that than… The other idea that his mind wanted to supply. But he was able to shove it back, it was a stupid and illogical conclusion.

Getting up almost felt impossible, but if he focused all his energy into standing he found he could hold his balance. It didn’t stop Sniper from almost snapping up, but Spy sent a daring glare that made him settle back down hesitantly. Scout didn’t bother helping, he didn’t look at Spy at all actually. It almost brought a feeling of guilt until he realized the kid was passed out over the other chair. Fair enough.

He steadied himself using the countertops of the kitchen set against the wall and clenched the bathroom handle with one hand and his head with the other. The only reason he had trouble walking was because he was weak, it was only his head and throat that really hurt when he moved. The concussion he was certain he got throbbed at the back of his head.

Spy all but slammed the door behind him as he lurched over the sink. There was a mirror here- he’d use it with the other one to get a look at the wound from the back too- but right now he had to fight down the urge to vomit. His head was only slowly easing back down after being stirred by too much movement. He was certain there’d be nothing in his bile but acid and blood. The feeling passed for the most part, leaving him nauseous, but he didn’t relent from his goal. He noted the roll of bandage already on the counter and began to undress his own.

A harsher burning sensation spread across his throat as it became exposed to the air, making him wince and clench his eyes shut. After a few more moments he allowed himself to begin checking the wound, lifting the balaclava up only just enough for him to get a good examination.

And god did it look like shit. The ‘indention’ he’d noticed from the bandages could be better described as an entire chunk of his skin missing. It seemed like it had begun to heal, but at the moment he looked like he’d been mauled by a madman (which he had) and the teeth marks were painfully clear in the flesh wound. The areas that weren’t still caked in dried blood and still had surface skin attached were dark blue and purple that were painful to the touch.

Despite this, Spy got to work on slowly cleaning the wound out, grabbing a rag and an alcoholic solution he expected would make the wound practically light on fire with. Dousing the rag in water and alcohol he tentatively dabbed around the wound on the left side of his neck. It was sore, but he slowly moved closer and closer until he had to force himself on through sheer willpower. Damn the thing hurt!  

It took a good ten minutes for him to finish. Able to get a better look now, he used both mirrors to inspect the wound. Everything around it was bruised (understandably) and he was certain that he’d have a nasty scar by the time it was done healing. It didn’t look so bad that he’d have a sudden slope in his neck thankfully, but he was certain the parts where the teeth had really locked into his skin- at least the canines- would probably leave white knotted tissue or indefinite dark indentions.

Poking around the outer spots of the large bruise he noticed something else in the purple and blue- black. Hard to differentiate from the optical black of the dark blues, but there nonetheless. A black… Line. A vein. His vein was black. Now, he wasn’t sure about the sciences regarding medicine and throats being ripped out all that much, but he didn’t think his blood would become _black_ because of it. Furthermore, it appeared to be coming from the bite mark itself- at that point it became impossible to discern where exactly- just that the little vein reached outwards in all directions.

Assuming the best (that he’d been poisoned and be allowed to leave this wretched existence, or in the second-best case the venom would spread as slowly as it had been and not reach his heart until after they got to Medic and the working respawn machine. Polar opposite best outcomes, but better than being left to a life of cursed pain or having had a tracker in the venom), he put down the mirrors and let himself mull over the situation for a few minutes before he could gain the strength to make it back to his chair. He regretted having slumped in the one nearest to the entrance to the RV, it was the farthest from the bathroom…

Spy redressed his wound with new bandages, flinching at contact and cringing the entire time. It felt a little reassuring to know that it wouldn’t get infected now though. Bracing himself, he left his mirror behind as he exited the bathroom and made his way back to his seat. Unluckily for him, he’d been standing so long that his mind immediately whirled, and he deduced very quickly that he’d either have to accept help to just make it to his seat or accept his fate and sit on the other end of the couch that sniper was sitting on. Accepting help from someone sounded awful, so he resigned to plopping down as soon as he was within arm’s reach of the furniture.

He could feel Sniper’s worried glance and promptly ignored it. Along with that, Spy also thought it best to keep his black veined discovery to himself for the time being. Everybody was worried enough about him as it is, and the last thing he wanted was for Scout to have a panic attack and Sniper to become even more dedicated to helping him.

Really, he didn’t know what the deal was with Sniper in the first place. They were friends, and good ones at that, if you could call mercenaries sparing each other on the battlefield friendship. And Sniper was one of the few members on his team he could talk to without having to filter himself, often hanging around each other for hours since everyone else was either too hyped (Scout), too estranged (Soldier), or too busy- and sure, he could assume the same went for the Australian- but that didn’t constitute the lengths this man went to save him. He was sure the bushman had thought of it being an ambush, and yet here he’d come, Scout dragging behind, just to save the pitiful excuse for a Spy he was.

Something about it was off to the Spy, and he was certain he’d figure it out before he died. That is, assuming he’s poisoned, of course.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter may have been a little dull, sorry! uvu I'm having a little trouble getting back into character with these guys, as well as figuring out the exact plot of the future chapters (I have a vague idea, but,,, now that it's been a few months I need to polish it a LOT, as well as the way the whole,,, "thing i can't spoil that's happening but is obviously happening" works)


End file.
